


Time After Time

by mrs_squirrel_chester



Category: Captain America (Movies), Supernatural
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Divergance, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, F/M, Gen, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2018-12-31 23:19:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12143298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_squirrel_chester/pseuds/mrs_squirrel_chester
Summary: If it were up to Dean, he’d never travel through time again. But no matter how many times he bitched about it, his ass always ended up in the past. Chasing after the Greek god of time, Chronos, Dean gets zapped back to 1943, where he shot a Nazi, and met the legendary Steve Rogers and James ‘Bucky’ Barnes.





	1. Time After Time

**Author's Note:**

> My work is not to be posted on any other sites without my express written permission.

* * *

 

It’s a flash of red that gains Dean’s attention. He had lost the unnamed man several blocks back, and he was just about to pull out his cell, call Sam, see if he had intercepted the murderer by chance. But then there was a spark - almost like a firecracker really - at the end an alley. Turning, Dean pushes himself around the corner, not fully understanding what is happening, what he is seeing. All Dean knows is that if he doesn’t get his ass down the alley in time, there will be one more dead body.

“Son of a-” he grinds out just before shoving his shoulder into the gut of the man in all black.

The duo fall through the air as it crackles with unharnessed power. It feels as if the air is made up entirely of static, searching for someone to touch, someone to kill. The two men are on the ground, fighting for the upper hand, neither of them gaining it. Not until Dean lands a lucky punch, throwing the other man off balance just enough.

A hand shoots out as he tries to balance himself, to keep from losing the man once again, a hand that Dean grabs. There’s a ring, one of those gaudy ones that look like it belongs with the Freemasons or something. Its design is simple; an hourglass, nothing more. Even if there was more, the time spent looking at the ring is enough for the man to yank his hand back, and get away from Dean.

“Hey,” Dean shouts as he follows, pistol in hand, rage bubbling just below the surface. He gives chase, out of the alleyway, down the street, and around a corner where the only thing that greets him is the lid from a trash can. Stars litter his vision as his head snaps back, but he somehow manages to keep from falling.

A string of curses fall from the hunter’s mouth as he shakes his head. With his vision somewhat clear, Dean raises his pistol at a figure that’s the same shape and size of… Shit, Dean hates not knowing WHO the asshole is. There’s only one glaring difference, this new guy is wearing all white. That, and he is holding a child hostage.

“Don’t want to do this, man,” Dean calls. “Let the kid go.” Even with his heart hammering in his chest, Dean can hear water slapping against the concrete.

He sneers unattractively before dangling the child over the edge. “You can’t kill me and save the child,” he taunts, winking as he lets loose his hold. Without even thinking about it, Dean pulls the trigger just as another set of men come careening around the corner. They both shout something that Dean can’t decipher, but only because they’re saying two different things at the same time. The dark-haired one dives head first into the water while the blonde one straddles the man Dean shot.

With Dean’s curiosity piqued, he strolls over, and overhears the man pinned to the ground say, “Cut off one head, two shall take it’s place.” With a tongue like a snake, he tugs on something, something that looks eerily like a tooth, and chews it.

“No,” shouts the blonde man as he struggles to stop the quick-acting cyanide tablet from taking effect.

Dean knows it’s too late, the man on the ground is already dead. He holsters his gun and bends down to take a closer look, but he never makes it that far. Dean is forced against the wall. Brick bites into his cheek, pulling a discomforted groan from the hunter.

“The fuck you doing? I shot him, saved the kid,” Dean shouts, struggling against the iron-clad grip of whoever is standing behind him.

“I saved the kid,” the brunette corrects Dean, wet hair flopping in his face.

“We didn’t want him dead,” the man behind Dean snarls.

Dean’s scoff comes out strained. “Shouldn’t’a let him swallow cyanide.

“Steve, don’t,” the brunette orders. “Don’t let him get under your skin. Let’s cuff him, bring him in, see what he has to say for himself.”

“Yes, let’s do that,” Dean snarks. “Then you guys will know who the fuck you’re dealin’ with.”

Steve pushes his forearm into the back of Dean’s shoulders. “Language,” he warns. A moment later, Dean is cuffed, a burlap sack is thrown over his face, and he is being ushered into the backseat of a car.

* * *

While James looks through Dean’s wallet, Dean glares at him, rattling his handcuffs against the table. “Okay, can I just -”

“Don’t,” James grinds out, his teeth clenched, shoulders rigid. “Listen to me. Hey, if you tell me you’re the Bureau one more time, I’m gonna air you out myself. Got it?” His attention falls to Dean’s cell phone, but there’s confusion set deep into his brows as he inspects it closer. “Are you some kind of Jerry spy?”

“Jerry who?” Dean scoffs.

“And a terrible one at that,” James admonishes as he tosses the cell phone down. Next, he grabs Dean’s badge, investigating it closely. “This badge was issued 69 years from now. Ace work, kraut-muncher.”

It can’t be, not again. Dean grunts in disbelief as he starts calculating what year his dumb ass got transported to this time. “‘43? I’m stuck in 1943?”

“We’re all stuck in 1943, ya looney,” James chuckles.

Dean is about lunge across the table when the door opens, and Steve strolls in, a scowl on his brow. “Look, I don’t even like friggin’ sauerkraut, okay, so can we just skip the -”

“What happened in the alley?” Steve interrupts, taking a seat. “And paint me a real picture.”

Rolling his eyes, Dean does as he was asked. “Alright, well, I’m ‘twelve monkeyed’ no matter what I say, so here goes. My brother and I got wind of a case, this guy is killing people, mummifying their bodies; we just didn’t know how. Until tonight.”

“Go on,” James instructs.

“Not much more to tell. I gave chase, saw him work his magic, so I jumped him. There was a flash of light, and poof. We’re in 1943,” Dean finishes, rolling his eyes at how ridiculous it all sounds.

Steve and James exchange an odd look. “Tell us more about this light,” Steve demands.

“Are you seriously asking -”

“You want out of this jail,” James snaps, eyes flashing dark and angry. “You’re gonna tell us everything you can about that man and the so-called light.”

Steve shoots his friend a warning look. “Bucky,” he grumbles under his breath. “We want him to cooperate, not clam up.”

The nickname strikes familiarity in Dean, but he can’t place where he knows it from. “Okay. I saw it, and then we were here.”

“Would you say that it was all around you or that it came from inside this fella?” James asks, feigning politeness.

“You believe me.” Dean exhales loudly in relief. “Are you…? You’re not a hunter, can’t be.” It’s there, on the tip of his tongue, but the names still elude him.

The two men exchange another look, this one full of genuine confusion. “Don’t know what you’re talkin’ ‘bout,” Steve says.

“Demons, ghosts, shifters,” Dean explains matter-of-factly. “Hey, I’ve killed ‘em all. And you two… I _know_ I know you. Just can’t place it.”

Steve lets out a heavy sigh. “Name’s Steve Rogers. This here is James Buchanan Barnes, but you can call him Bucky.”

“Like hell he can,” James snaps, staring hard at his best friend.

“Come again,” Dean all but chokes.

Steve stands and removes the cuffs from Dean’s wrists. Once the cuffs are tucked away, Steve holds out his hand. “And you are?”

Dean swallows the lump in his throat because he finally figures out where he knows the names Steve Rogers and James Barnes, and if it were under any other circumstances, if he hadn’t already been zapped to the past more than once, he might think this is all a dream.

“Dean… I’m Dean Winchester.”


	2. I’ve Heard That Song Before

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PREVIOUSLY ON TIME AFTER TIME:
> 
> “What happened in the alley?” Steve interrupts. “And paint me a real picture.”
> 
> Rolling his eyes, Dean does as he was asked. “Alright, well, I’m ‘twelve monkeyed’ no matter what I say, so here goes. My brother and I got wind of a case, this guy is killing people, mummifying their bodies; we just didn’t know how. Until tonight.”
> 
> “Go on,” James instructs.
> 
> “Not much more to tell. I gave chase, saw him work his magic, so I jumped him. There was a flash of light, and poof. We’re in 1943,” Dean finishes, rolling his eyes at how ridiculous it all sounds.
> 
> “Would you say that it was all around you or that it came from inside this fella?” James asks, feigning politeness.
> 
> “You believe me.” Dean exhales loudly in relief. “Are you…? You’re not a hunter, can’t be.” It’s there, on the tip of his tongue, but the names still elude him.
> 
> “Don’t know what you’re talkin’ ‘bout,” Steve says.
> 
> “Demons, ghosts, shifters,” Dean explains matter-of-factly. “Hey, I’ve killed ‘em all. And you two… I know I know you. Just can’t place it.”
> 
> “Name’s Steve Rogers. This here is James Buchanan Barnes, but you can call him Bucky.”
> 
> Dean swallows the lump in his throat because he finally figures out where he knows the names Steve Rogers and James Barnes, and if it were under any other circumstances, if he hadn’t already been zapped to the past more than once, he might think this is all a dream.
> 
> “Dean… I’m Dean Winchester.”

Even though he is alone, Dean is still going over the events in his head, stuck on one thing; he just shook Steve Rogers’ hand… Captain fuckin’ America! “This isn’t happening. How can this be happening? Imma have to tell Sammy about this,” he chuckles under his breath.

That is when he realizes he has absolutely no clue how he is going to get back to his brother, to _his_ time. The previous times, the angels were the ones responsible for Dean’s ‘Back to the Future’ escapades. But now, he has no idea who he rode to 1943, or if going home is even an option. He doesn’t get to delve deeper into his thoughts, because Steve enters the room a moment later, the metal door squealing loudly, making Dean cringe.

“I… I gotta tell you, I mean, ‘The Avengers’ is like, my favorite comic ever,” Dean beams, barely able to control his inner geek.

Steve stares at Dean for a moment. “What?”

Nodding, Dean rattles on. “Yeah! I must’a read those things at least a hundred times.”

“‘Read them?’ Wait, like… in publication?” Steve stammers, not fully understanding what Dean is saying.

“Oh, yeah! You don’t even know,” Dean waves his hand, effectively dismissing the conversation.

Steve shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Look, hey, wait, wait, wait. Let’s just… slow it down. Okay? Now, time travel. Is that something you find up a lot of sleeves in the future or…?”

“No, no, no. It’s, uh, not normally on the menu. Trust me. I’m as surprised as you are that I’m here.”

“You said you were a hunter. Judging by the phony badge and talk’a time travel, ghosts, and vampires, I’m guessin’ you don’t mean wildlife.”

Dean runs a hand over his face. “That’s a long story, Steve.”

“I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

* * *

“So this guy, the one you’re… hunting, he lights up red after sucking the life out of a man,” Steve confirms one last time.

Rolling his eyes, Dean nods his agreement, sarcastically mumbling, “Awesome.”

Steve’s eyes narrow. “How does that fill you with awe? Look, Dean, this thing, it kills -”

“In threes,” Dean said at the same time as Steve. “But you already know that.”

Of course Steve knows about it. He and Bucky have been trying to get the fat-head for almost a year. What the agency does know is that he’s working close with Red Skull, using his power to fuel some kind of weapon. “He’s two down. You’re coming with me. We’ve got to get this thing before it grabs the last one.”

Dean smirks, pushing dimples deep into his cheeks. “Okay, so, so, wait, uh… does… does this mean that I’m an Avenger now?”

Steve can’t help but chuckle at the childlike twinkle in Dean’s eyes. “It means we got to get you into some new clothes. You look like some kind of bindlestiff.”

That’s one Dean hasn’t heard before, and it makes it impossible to make a snappy comeback. “Stiff your br - bin - what?”

* * *

Steve ushers Dean into a tailor shop, one that’s tucked away, kept out of sight from prying eyes. They need to be careful who sees where they go, and who they talk to. If anyone where to find out where one of their meeting places was… if something were to happen to Peggy… he can’t bear think about it.

Peggy looks up from measuring and pinning a set of trousers. “Didn’t think I’d see you today, Steve.”

“Peggy Carter. Dean Winchester.” Steve waves his hand between the two.

Dean gives a tip of his head. “Hey,” he greets Peggy with a smile.

“Who’s he, some farmer clown?” she chuckles. It’s low and rich, and it raises the hair on the back of Steve’s neck.

Steve clears his throat before stumbling through an answer. “He’s, uh, from the future.”

Rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, Dean adds, “Yeah. Gas costs four bucks. You can get cheese out of a spray can. And… the President, he’s a black guy. I could go on.”

“Color me impressed. I assume you need some clothes. Come on.”

* * *

Dean is having a difficult time focusing on anything other than the gorgeous brunette before him.

“You’re staring,” she notes, grabbing something from behind a door; a dark blue jacket to finish the look.

“So are you,” Dean chuckles. His fingers work deftly to button the wool waistcoat after the jacket is slid into place, hugging his shoulders nicely. It’s a lot more comfortable than Dean originally thought it would be.

With a brow arched playfully, Peggy steps back. “It’s my job to stare.”

“Touche,” smirks Dean, running his hands over the thick material. “Since you’re just doin’ your job, what do you think?” He turns in a slow circle, arms held out, winking as he completes the circle.

A dark red nail taps against her chin. “All you need is a long coat, a hat, and a tommy gun,” she smiles. “Unfortunately, I’m all out of guns.” Peggy crooks her finger, beckoning Dean to follow.

Steve smiles and gives a low whistle as Dean emerges, looking every bit of the decade. As Dean stands in front of the mirror, finally catching a glimpse of himself, Peggy stands behind him, smoothing the jacket with her hands.

“Awesome,” Dean chuckles.

Peggy’s brow arches as she scoffs. “‘Awesome?’ You some religious kook?”

“No,” Steve answered. “He just really likes sayin’ that.”

“So, spill already. What bucket of syrup did you two blockheads manage to step into?” Peggy knows Steve, knows that if there’s something amiss, Steve will have already dove head first into the fray.

“We need your help, Peg,” Steve breathes, willing himself to not grab the woman he loves and kiss her senseless. “Seems we got a time traveller running around.”

Both men take notice of the sparkle that lights up Peggy’s face. “Delightful.”

* * *

After Peggy disappears to do some research, Steve locks the front door, flips the sign over, and makes his way to the counter and reaches behind it. He pulls out a thick, leather-bound book, and hands it to Dean.

“What’s this for?” Dean wonders aloud, running his fingers over the star that is stamped into the lower right corner.

“I imagine that travelling through time is confusing, an adjustment.”

“You can say that again,” Dean scoffs. “It’s a pain in the ass.”

Crossing his arms, Steve leans back against the counter. “Might help to write it all down, sort through the mess I’m sure you’ve got goin’ on up there.”

Henry had kept a journal, so had John, but those were different. Those were _hunting_ journals. They hold vital information about how to kill the things that go bump in the night, not to write down how shitty of a day one was having.

Steve doesn’t miss the flash of uncertainty in Dean’s eyes. “Think on it, huh? I’m, uh, I’m gonna check on Peg. See if she needs some help.”

Dean stands there, staring at the journal for several long moments, until silently agreeing with Steve. He grabs a pen from the counter and drops into one of the large chairs.

_Sammy,_

_I’m in 1943, man. Time travel, again. My favorite. You ready for what’s next? I’m working with Steve Rogers. Yeah, dude. Captain fucking America! It’s crazy. I don’t even know if it’s real or if I’m stuck in some weird dream world._

_Whoever you and I started hunting, I think Steve is, too. Huh. Still hasn’t sunk in. I’m working with Steve Rogers. Oh, and his friend… Bucky! Man, it’s weird seeing him without that kick ass metal arm. I’m trying not to say too much, but I already let the Avengers slip. I know, I know… time travel is tricky and shit like that._

_Right now, I’m at Carter’s Tailoring in Brooklyn. It’s mainly a front for the beginning of SHIELD, I think. Because there’s no way a shop this small and tucked away makes enough cash to stay open. Steve’s girl, Peggy, is helping, doing some research into what’s happening._

_Wait… isn’t Peggy the one Steve loves? Shit, it is, and I just hit on her. Fuck, I’m an idiot._

Steve pushes his head through the curtain. “Got something.”

“Right behind you,” Dean gruffs. He closes the journal, drops it to the chair, and tucks the pen into his pocket before jogging through the small shop.


	3. Peg O’ My Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PREVIOUSLY ON TIME AFTER TIME:
> 
> “So, spill already. What bucket of syrup did you two blockheads step into?” Peggy knows Steve, knows that if there’s something amiss, Steve will have already dove head first into the fray.
> 
> “We need your help, Peg,” Steve breathes, willing himself to not grab the woman he loves and kiss her senseless. “Seems we got a time traveller running around.”
> 
> Both men take notice of the sparkle that lights up Peggy’s face. “Delightful.”
> 
> *******************************************
> 
> Sammy,
> 
> I’m in 1943, man. Time travel, again. My favorite. You ready for what’s next? I’m working with Steve Rogers. Yeah, dude. Captain fucking America! It’s crazy. I don’t even know if it’s real or if I’m stuck in some weird dream world.
> 
> Whoever you and I started hunting, I think Steve is, too. Huh. Still hasn’t sunk in. I’m working with Steve Rogers. Oh, and his friend… Bucky! Man, it’s weird seeing him without a metal arm. I’m trying not to say too much, but I already let the Avengers slip. I know, I know… time travel is tricky and shit like that.
> 
> Right now, I’m at Carter’s Tailoring in Brooklyn. It’s mainly a front for the beginning of SHIELD, I think. Because there’s no way a shop this small and tucked away makes enough cash to stay open. Steve’s girl, Peggy, is helping, doing some research into what’s happening.
> 
> Wait… isn’t Peggy the one Steve loves? Shit, it is, and I just hit on her. Fuck, I’m an idiot.
> 
> Steve pushes his head through the curtain. “Got something.”
> 
> “Right behind you,” Dean gruffs.

Peggy turns the book around, showing Dean what she and Steve found. “It’s the infinite hourglass.”

“That’s the symbol I saw on his ring,” Dean confirms.

“Yeah, that’s the mark of Chronos,” Peggy adds, watching Dean closely, see if there’s any kind of recognition in his eyes.

The war had brought all kinds of supernatural forces to the front line, none scarier than Red Skull. He was ruthless, without remorse or conscience, obliterating everything, everyone in his path. He wanted to rule the world, even if that meant being the only survivor.

Dean shakes his head. “Who?”

“The god of time,” Steve answers, sounding less than enthusiastic about someone other than Jesus Christ himself marching around, calling themselves God.

“Thing is,” Peggy starts, turning the page. “With the ‘old gods,’ once upon a time they were - they were just short of invincible. But they got a lot of their power from worshippers, from people feeding them. These days, not so much.”

“Right. So, they’re not what they used to be. But they make up for their lack of power with being twice as pissed and a lot more hands-on,” Dean adds, groaning, raking a hand over his face. Why does it have to be a god? “Question is, why… why is he killing people?”

Peggy and Steve exchange a look, a look that Dean would have to be blind to miss. “Could be he’s killing folks to fuel his jumps through time,” answers Steve.

Pulling in a deep breath, Dean decides not to reveal that he knows he’s being lied to. “All right, well, how the hell do we even find this Chronos?”

“Best stab?” Peggy answers with a question of her own. “We find a way to summon a god.”

Steve ran a hand over his face. “Look, let’s just stick with what we know. Peggy, see if you can find something in all this that will kill a god.”

“No trouble at all. Come back in a few hours, see what I managed to scrounge up.” Unable to help herself, Peggy shoots a wink at both men.

Steve was shrugging on his long coat. “You said you and your brother found his house? Well, let’s go see if it’s been built yet. And then, let’s kill this guy. That is, if you’re up for it.”

Chuckling, Dean puts on a fedora, swiping his finger across the brim. “I could do this all day.”

“Who talks like that?” Steve asks awkwardly, shuffling his feet.

Peggy laughs loudly as she helps Dean into his long coat. “You do, Steve.”

“Do not” he pouts, turning on his heel, and marching off. “Never saying that again,” he mutters under his breath.

* * *

“You and Peggy, huh?” Dean blurts out as soon as Steve pulls the car away from the curb.

Steve laughs a little too hard. It’s forceful and borderline annoying. “Wha- where did you get that idea from?”

“Dude, come on. I see the way you look at each other when you’re damn sure the other isn’t looking.” Dean catches the way Steve’s hand flexes on the wheel, the way his knuckles turn white.

Steve gives a one-shouldered shrug. “We aren’t together. She’s… out of my league.”

“Whaaaat?” Dean snarked. “No, man. I’m tellin’ ya. You’re perfect for each other.”

“Pretty sure she doesn’t see it that way,” Steve sighs, using his thumb to rub at his temple, hopefully pushing the headache away.

Shaking his head, Dean turns slightly in his seat. “From the way she was lookin’ at you, take it from me, she sees it that way.”

“Yeah?” Steve inquires, smiling softly. If it were up to Steve, he’d drive back to the shop, march in, declare his love for Peggy, and kiss her breathless. He had fallen in love with her at first site, back when he was a scrawny kid from Brooklyn with a chip on his shoulder and something to prove.

“Just gotta ask her out, man. Show her a good time; a nice dinner, take her dancing,” Dean suggests, knowing that dates are drastically different than 2012.

The rest of the drive is silent and short; just a handful of turns before Steve pulls the car over and kills the engine. The two exit the car, jog up the sidewalk, and all but jump up the stairs.

Dean peers into the dark windows. “It looks empty. You got a lock pick?”

“This may be Brooklyn, but it’s by no means a ghetto,” Steve sasses as he turns the handle and opens the door. After entering the house, Steve directs Dean to, “Take a look around. Gotta figure out where he’s getting the lettuce to support this.”

The first thing Dean notices is a large journal. Written in pencil are sheets and sheets of horse races. “I’ll be damned. Son of a bitch is using the ‘Biff strategy.’”

“The what?”

“He’s - Chronos is betting on races he already knows the outcome of. Look at this,” Dean says, handing the journal to Steve.

Steve flips through several pages, looking at the information closely. “He’s spent a lot of time in ‘43,” Steve notices, dragging his finger along the page.

Something catches Dean’s attention. “What’s A.Z.?”

“It’s not a what. It’s a who; Anrim Zola. He lays bets for a lot of the flunkies in town. Let’s say we go pay him a visit.”

* * *

Steve pushes Anrim into the chair, the same chair Dean was occupying yesterday. “You’re gonna tell us everything you know,” he orders, shoulders tight, hands balled into fists.

When Anrim shakes his head, wearing a smug smirk, Dean throws a punch, splitting the older man’s lip. Under the scrutiny of Steve, Dean shrugs. “What? I learned it from watching you.”

“Look, you seem like a swell guy, Anrim,” Dean says while shrugging out of his jacket.

Steve tries, but fails, to hide a smirk. “I want to help you out. I do, but my partner here? He just got back from the war. And he’s spent the last year kicking in Nazi skulls. If he doesn’t kick in a skull every couple’a days, he gets real touchy.”

“Zola. That a German name?” Dean growls.

Anrim smirks, seemingly unmoved by the not-so-subtle threats aimed at him. “Sorry to disappoint you, kid. I’m from Switzerland; born and raised.”

Steve’s eyes narrow as he stares at Zola. He knows the man, but he can’t place where. Not yet. “What are you doing in Brooklyn?”

“I think you know, Steve,” he answers, turning in his seat and crossing his legs, humming contentedly. “I can almost hear the gears turning in that puny brain of yours.”

Rolling his eyes, Dean rears his arm back, punching Anrim square in the jaw. “Tell us about Snider.”

With a chuckle, he spits out a thick wad of blood. “Don’t know the lad,” he lies, a little too easily for Steve and Dean’s liking.

“Don’t make me hit you again,” Dean warns, his knuckles bruised and bloodied.

“Snider never missed a bet, but he gave me the heebie-jeebies, so I cut him off.” It’s a simple answer, an answer that makes the hair on the back of Steve’s neck stand on end.

“Where would you meet him for the payoff?” Steve asks, watching every micro expression that crosses Zola’s face.

Nothing. Not even a twitch of his eyebrow. “The Early Bird. It’s a dive on Prospect. Practically lives in the joint. Now, am I free to go?”

Letting Zola go is the last thing Steve wants to do, but when the only proof of illegal activity is a journal that can easily be explained away, especially when one is as cool as a cucumber like Zola is. With a tilt of his head, and a thumb over his shoulder, Steve dismisses Zola.

With his eyes locked on Steve, Anrim strolls past. Wearing a smug smirk and adjusting his stupid little bowtie, he pats Steve’s shoulder, an oddly proud glint in his eye. Without another word, he strides past, whistling a jingle that strikes familiarity in Steve.

“You really believe that Nazi bastard?” Dean grinds out, stepping next to Steve.

“Not one bit.”


	4. Heartaches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PREVIOUSLY ON TIME AFTER TIME:
> 
> “It’s the infinite hourglass.”
> 
> “That’s the symbol I saw on his ring,” Dean confirms.
> 
> “Yeah, that’s the mark of Chronos,” Peggy adds, watching Dean closely.
> 
> Dean shakes his head. “Who?”
> 
> “The god of time,” Steve answers.  
> *****************************
> 
> Steve directs Dean to, “Take a look around. Gotta figure out where he’s getting the lettuce to support this.”
> 
> The first thing Dean notices is a large journal. Written in pencil are sheets and sheets of horse races. “I’ll be damned. Son of a bitch is using the ‘Biff strategy.’ Chronos is betting on races he already knows the outcome of. Look at this,” Dean says, handing the journal to Steve.
> 
> Steve flips through several pages, looking at the information closely. “He’s spent a lot of time in ‘43,” Steve notices, dragging his finger along the page.
> 
> Something catches Dean’s attention. “What’s A.Z.?”
> 
> “It’s not a what. It’s a who. Anrim Zola.”  
> **************************
> 
> Steve’s eyes narrow as he stares at Zola. He knows the man, but he can’t place where. Not yet. “What are you doing in Brooklyn?”
> 
> “I think you know, Steve,” he answers, turning in his seat and crossing his legs, humming contentedly. “I can almost hear the gears turning in that puny brain of yours.”

It’s late when Dean and Steve enter the apartment the two Brooklyn brawlers share. Even by 2012 standards, the apartment is nice. It’s open and roomy, nothing extravagant. Typical apartment layout; living room that feeds into the kitchen, hallway that has three doors leading into two bedrooms, and a bathroom.

“I hope you don’t mind crashin’ on the couch,” Steve says while handing Dean a pair of clean clothes, pajamas included.

“This is like the Ritz compared to other places I’ve been.” Dean nods his thanks, and sets the clothes on the couch.

Chuckling, Steve disappears into his room to grab a pillow and several blankets. He sets them on the small table opposite the couch, and walks into the kitchen to grab a beer. “You look like you could use a drink.”

“It’s like you read my mind.”

Both men shed their coats and hats before taking a seat; Steve in a dark brown chair, and Dean on the couch. The silence is comfortable, as if the two have known each other for much longer than two days.

Steve clears his throat gently. “So, who died in your life and made you a hunter?”

Chuckling wryly, Dean drops his eyes to the bottle he’s holding between his legs. “My mom, Mary,” he says, emotion clogging his throat. “She uh… she burned to death in… in our house.”

“I… I’m sorry, Dean. How old were you?”

Dean runs his tongue over his teeth before answering. “I was 4, and Sammy was 6 months old.”

Sighing heavily, Steve scraps a hand through his hair. “So young.”

“Too young,” Dean murmurs. After a long pull of beer, he answers the unasked question, the question that always comes next. “Dad was blinded by revenge. He immersed himself in the supernatural, doing anything and everything to find the son of a bitch that killed her. It wasn’t easy with two kids, and he did the best he could with us, he really did. Yeah, he was a bit of a hard ass, stubborn, obsessed; the marine side of him becoming more and more evident with every false lead and dead end.”

“What happened?”

“We got the bastard; a demon named Azazel. But dad… he uh, he died a couple years back.” No matter how many times Dean says it, his throat immediately goes thick, making it damn near impossible to swallow. “Made a deal with a demon to save my life. Fuckin’ bastard.”

“Why do you keep hunting?”

With a shrug, Dean answers, “I used to do it because it’s what my family does. But they just seem to keep dying. To tell you the truth, I don’t know why I’m doing much of anything anymore.”

“No, don’t do that,” Steve commands gently. “You are doing what you were raised to do. You’re saving people’s lives, Dean. That has to count for something.”

“There are days that I’m not so sure, man,” Dean sighs heavily.

With a soft and caring smile, Steve says, “Hey. You’ve had a rough couple’a days. Get some rest. We’ll check in with Peg in the morning.” Without waiting for a response, Steve stands, clapping Dean on the shoulder as he passes.

Dean sits there, his mind spinning, so he cracks open another can of beer, earning himself a nice buzz, only slightly dulling the worried voices in his head about making it back home. As awesome as it is working with Captain America, Dean doesn’t belong in this time, the 1940’s. Shaking his head, he exchanges the can of beer for the journal.

_Sammy,_

_Turns out this isn’t a dream and, even though it’s right up that son of a bitch’s alley, it’s not the trickster. The only thing supernatural about this whole fucking thing is the fact that I hitched a ride with a fucking god. Can you believe it?_

_I’m telling ya, Peggy’s fucking smart. She figured it out… Snider is Chronos, the god of time. When I jumped him in the alley, I got sucked along for the ride. Steve and I are going to go looking for him tomorrow._

_There is one thing that’s bothering me right now… ok, fine, more than one thing, but the MAIN thing I’m struggling with is the name Anrim Zola. I know it. I just can’t place how I know it. Guess I must be getting old, huh?_

_Shit, Sammy. What happens if I can’t get back?_

* * *

Carrying his journal and a cup of coffee, Dean holds the door open for Steve, who is holding two cups; one for Peggy, and one for himself. “She’s the only woman I know that doesn’t take cream or sugar,” Steve had commented to Dean when they were at the diner for breakfast.

“My hero,” Peggy praises, kissing Steve on the cheek before taking the coffee.

Dean doesn’t miss the blush that colors Steve’s cheeks. With a chuckle, he greets Peggy, “Good morning.”

She lets out an appreciative sigh after the first sip. “Good morning, Dean. Did you sleep well?”

“That remains to be seen,” he answers. “How the research comin’?”

“Straight to the point, aren’t you?” Peggy jokes, shoving her elbow into his ribs. “It says here that people could summon Chronos ‘to compel him to tell them their futures.’”

“That sounds promising,” Steve says, peering over Peggy’s shoulder at the open book.

With a proud smile, she turns and leans back against the desk. “I can do better than ‘promising.’ I found a spell to summon him.”

Dean grins. “I could kiss you, Carter!” Steve glares at Dean over the top of Peggy’s head, but it disappears when Dean doesn’t do as he proclaimed.

Peggy can’t help but smile at the outburst. “Don’t get too excited just yet. There is a small hiccup. Summoning Chronos isn’t the problem; we can summon him as many times as we want.”

“Then what is the problem?” Dean questions.

She pulls in a deep breath before answering. “You’re from a different time, a time you understandably want to get back to. Someone from your time needs to summon him. Again, that’s the easy part. The hard part is making sure they summon him when you’re right there. Literally… with his hands on you.”

“So it’s not automatic, the time travel?” Steve asks, not understanding the gravity of what Peggy is saying. Getting pumped full of a serum that gives him muscles and super strength, he can comprehend all of that. But dealing with a time traveller sure was confusing.

“No, it’s more like we need to get the time on their end right to the exact second,” is Peggy’s straight-to-the-point answer.

Dean groans, face pinched in irritation. “Otherwise I’m trapped here forever.”

Peggy rests her hand on Dean’s elbow, squeezing it gently. “I’m not giving up, Dean, and neither should you. I’ll keep searching.”

“Yeah, it’s all good,” he lies, forcing a smile to appease Peggy.

* * *

Sitting in a car across the street, Dean catches sight of Chronos entering a diner. “That’s him,” he announces, pointing him out to Steve.

“Kind of puny for a god,” Steve grumbles. A handful of minutes later, a young woman with red lips and blonde hair exits the diner, and strolls past the car.

“Hello, nurse,” Dean whistles low, obviously appreciating the view.

Steve snaps his fingers. “Dean, look at this.”

After adjusting his hat, Chronos departs from the diner, taking the same path the woman had just travelled. After making sure Chronos is out of sight, Steve and Dean exit the car and meet at the trunk. Steve opens it, revealing a sight for Dean’s sore eyes; weapons.

“Sweet merciful awesome,” he beams, smiling even wider when Steve hands over a shotgun.

With Chronos gaining quickly on the woman, Steve and Dean give chase, raising their guns, taking aim, only to practically slide to a stop as they round the corner. Chronos is doing the exact opposite of what they thought he was going to do. Rather than kill the woman, the god has her wrapped in his arms, and they are kissing. Quite passionately at that.

Before they can be spotted, Steve and Dean slip out of the alley, shooting each other looks of utter confusion once they are back inside the car.

“I’d say things just got really interesting,” Dean points out the obvious.

After starting the car, Steve shifts it into gear. “I got a guy. Might know a thing or two about a thing or two.


	5. Night and Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PREVIOUSLY ON TIME AFTER TIME:
> 
> With a proud smile, she turns and leans back against the desk. “I can do better than ‘promising.’ I found a spell to summon him.”
> 
> Dean grins. “I could kiss you, Carter!”
> 
> “Don’t get too excited just yet. There is a small hiccup. Summoning Chronos isn’t the problem; we can summon him as much as we want.”
> 
> “Then what is the problem?” Dean questions.
> 
> “You’re from a different time, a time you understandably want to get back to. Someone from your time needs to summon him. Again, that’s the easy part. The hard part is making sure they summon him when you’re right there. Literally… with his hands on you.”   
> **************************************  
> Sammy,
> 
> Turns out this isn’t a dream and, even though it’s right up that son of a bitch’s alley, it’s not the trickster. The only thing supernatural about this whole fucking thing is the fact that I hitched a ride with a fucking god. Can you believe it?
> 
> I’m telling ya, Peggy’s fucking smart. She figured it out… Snider is Chronos, the god of time. When I jumped him in the alley, I got sucked along for the ride. Steve and I are going to go looking for him tomorrow.
> 
> There is one thing that’s bothering me right now… ok, fine, more than one thing, but the MAIN thing I’m struggling with is the name Anrim Zola. I know it. I just can’t place how I know it. Guess I must be getting old, huh?
> 
> Shit, Sammy. What happens if I can’t get back?

Dean is waiting - with very little patience - while Steve is standing down the street, talking with some guy in a small truck. It’s too dark to figure out if what Steve hears is good news or bad, and the car is parked too far away to overhear their conversation. Dean is left to his thoughts, and it’s not a very good place to be right now. All he can think about is getting home, back to his brother, back to… what? Another apocalypse, some big bad that wants to kill everyone? It’s not like Dean has a wife and kids waiting for him. Then he feels a pang of guilt deep in his chest. Sam is the only family he has left, how can Dean entertain the idea of staying put, living the rest of his life in a time that doesn’t belong to him? Simple, he can’t. He has to get back.

Steve’s hand clapping on the open window frame grabs Dean’s attention. “Well, everything’s coming up us,” Steve smiles.

“Talk to me.”

“I am,” Steve deadpans.”The owner of the house, Miss Lila Taylor, age 20, lives alone. Take the car, head back to Peg, see what she’s got. I’m gonna stay here and keep my eyes on the Sheik and the Sheba.”

Dean hands Steve his rifle, then drives off, watching Steve walk up the front path in the rear view mirror.

* * *

In the back room, Dean and Peggy are standing at a table. A stake fashioned from a branch is lying in the middle of it, the business end of it is painted red with blood.

“That’s it?” Dean scoffs, looking at Peggy through his lashes.

“That is a 1,000 year old olive carved by vestal virgins and dipped in the blood of - you don’t want to know. Pulling this together wasn’t easy. You and Rogers both owe me,” she smirks, arms crossed under her chest.

“You can have whatever you want… after we gank this thing.” Dean picks up the stake, examining it closely.

“Take your twig, wise guy,” Peggy can’t help but sass.

With a dead serious stare, Dean asks, “Well, now, how’s it work?”

“You’re joking, right? No? Alright… You stick this end in his heart. Miss, and you have one pissed off god on your hands.”

“Wait, if I - if I kill Chronos… I’m stuck here.”

Peggy’s features soften as the mood shifts. “1943 isn’t that bad.”

“Yeah,” he agrees with a chuckle. “I could head over to Europe, punch Hitler in the neck.” Which doesn’t sound so bad now that he says it.

 _Hey, Steve ends up over there, doesn’t he? If I do get stuck, at least I’ll have someone to hang with. Huh, maybe we can even kill Hitler._ Dean thinks to himself.

“You could do that,” Peggy agrees, her hands reaching out to straighten Dean’s lapels. “You could do that, and a whole lot more.”

With his brows furrowed, Dean takes a step back. “Whoa, I’m not one to step out with someone’s lady.”

Peggy’s cheeks flush, but she doesn’t back down. “That’s not what I meant, Dean. I meant the war. You could help us, help Steve and Bucky. This war is catastrophic.”

“Sweetheart, you have no idea.”

“I suppose I don’t,” Peggy concurs.

Before Dean turns away, he asks, “Do you know anyone that can help look up a name, maybe get some intel on ‘em?”

“I got just the man for you,” Peggy says with a wink. She pulls out a pen and paper. “What’s the name?”

“Anrim,” Dean answers. “Anrim Zola.”

* * *

Several hours later, Steve strolls into the shop to find Dean asleep in a chair, his feet kicked up, open journal on his lap.

“Sure looks peaceful, doesn’t he?” Peggy chuckles, standing in the doorway of the back room.

“He deserves to find some peace,” Steve whispers as he walks towards her. “He’s seen enough darkness in his life.”

Peggy takes one last look at Dean before closing the curtain, giving her full attention to Steve. “What do you mean?”

Steve removes his fedora, shrugs off his coat, and takes a seat. He tells Peggy everything Dean said last night, sparing no detail. Peggy has seen and heard far worse, which Steve hates. But there’s a part of him that likes it, likes being able to talk to someone besides Buck about what’s going on in the world, in the war, the horrors, the sights that should never be seen, sounds that should never be heard, nightmares that should never be lived in. She has seen it all, and she hasn’t run away screaming.

Dean’s story seems to affect her more than everything else. She starts shaking her head and tries to keep from crying. “That poor family,” she laments. “I cannot imagine what they have been through.”

Raking a hand over his face, Steve sighs. “Is he still hellbent on going home?”

“Wouldn’t you be?” Peggy scoffs. After Steve nods, Peggy changes the subject. “Earlier, Dean mentioned the name Anrim Zola, asked if I knew anyone that could look into him.”

“You call Stark?”

Peggy flexes her feet before readjusting herself on the stool. “I did,” she answers. “Said he should know more in the morning.”

“That’s better news than I have,” Steve admits defeatedly. “Lila wasn’t home, and there wasn’t any trace of Chronos.”

“And you think that Anrim is somehow connected to all of this?”

One of his shoulders bobs up and down subtly. “That’s the thing, I don’t know,” Steve groans, rubbing at his eyes with the palms of his hands. “I know the name, even recognize the guy. I just… I can’t figure it out.”

“You need to rest, Steve,” Peggy orders softly, her chest tightening at the sight of the bags under his eyes.

Steve chuckles. “I’ll rest when the war is over.”

With a huff, Peggy stands and walks to Steve. “There’s a bed in the back. Go and lie down,” she orders, her brow arched, the no-nonsense-attitude that gets her into trouble, the same one that Steve can’t get enough of.

He grabs her hand and gives it a squeeze. “Yes, ma’am.”

* * *

Someone is shaking Dean’s shoulder, that’s what pulls him from sleep. And judging by the vanilla perfume, it’s not Steve. Dean cracks an eye open, finding Peggy bending at the waist. “Not exactly the way I envisioned you wakin’ me,” he jokes, rolling his sore neck.

She’s laughing, too, but she slaps his shoulder in feigned offense. “Stark called just now, said he has something on Zola.”

“That was fast.” After closing the journal and dropping it onto the table where his feet had been, Dean stands, stretching his sore muscles. “What’d he say?”

Before Peggy can answer, there’s a knock on the door. “You’re about to find out,” she says as she crosses the room.

“Peggy, doll,” Howard coos, wrapping Peggy in his arms. “It’s been too long.”

She laughs softly, slapping at his shoulders and back. “Not long enough according to some,” Peggy snarks.

“And you, my good man, are the time traveller,” Howard announces, unwrapping himself from Peggy in order to shake Dean’s hand.

“Name’s Dean,” he greets, tipping his head. “I hear you have some information about Zola.”

“Straight to the point, isn’t he?” Howard chuckles, obviously in a good mood.

Peggy nudges Howard with her elbow. “Wouldn’t you be if you were 80 years in the past?”

Howard shudders at the thought. “Fair point. Now, where’s Cap? He’s going to want to hear this.”

As if on cue, Steve shows up behind Dean. “Stark,” he acknowledges with a yawn.

“Well, now that the gang’s all here, I suppose I should spill the beans.” In the blink of an eye, the playfulness is gone, replaced with a seriousness that makes Dean and Steve’s stomachs drop. “Your guy, Anrim, he’s not just some loan shark. It’s much worse than that.”

“How much worse could it possibly be?” Steve inquires.

Howard’s dark eyes flick to Steve. “Anrim Zola is working with Hydra. Turns out, he’s Red Skull’s right hand man.”


	6. 'Round Midnight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PREVIOUSLY ON TIME AFTER TIME:  
> Someone is shaking Dean’s shoulder, that’s what pulls him from sleep. And judging by the vanilla perfume, it’s not Steve. “Stark called just now, said he has something on Zola.”  
> “That was fast. What’d he say?”  
> Before Peggy can answer, there’s a knock on the door. “You’re about to find out,” she says as she crosses the room.  
> *************  
> “Your guy, Anrim, he’s not just some loan shark. It’s much worse than that.”  
> “How much worse could it possibly be?” Steve inquires.  
> Howard’s dark eyes flick to Steve. “Anrim Zola is working with Hydra. Turns out, he’s Red Skull’s right hand man.”

The silence is deafening; a pin dropping would probably shatter everyone’s eardrums. And then, the bubble of silence snaps when Steve lets loose a rageful shout. His hands are balled into fists and the veins in his neck are protruding, pulsing heavily.

Peggy jumps back, hand over her mouth, tears of surprise welling in her eyes. She has never seen Steve so…  _angry_  before. Stark wraps an arm around her shoulder, telling her, “It’s alright, doll.”

“Now it makes sense,” Dean groans. “I fuckin’ knew his name, I just couldn’t place it.”

Howard’s brows pull together. “What do you mean?”

“It’s in the fuckin’ comics,” he snaps, raking a hand through his hair, squeezing back of his neck. “I must’a read those things a million times.”

“He was there,” Steve mumbles, eyes wide, landing on Peggy. “I remember seeing him the day I got the serum. Son of a bitch was there.”

“What could Red Skull need from Chronos?” Dean asks Howard.

No longer able to hide the truth from Dean, Steve admits that, “Red Skull is trying to fashion a weapon. One that would eradicate entire cities with one blast.”

“We need to find Chronos,” Dean demands, his voice dark and dangerous.

Howard’s lips pull into a cocky smirk. “Already done,” he chuckles, unfolding one more piece of paper. It’s a map of a house that looks very familiar to Dean and Steve. “He’s got himself a dame-”

“Lila,” Steve and Dean interrupt at the same time, shocking Howard.

“I went there last night,” Steve states. “No one was there.”

Howard pulls a picture from his pocket, a picture of Lila and ‘Snider’ laughing while they eat dinner. “Took this myself less than an hour ago.”

* * *

Before they leave the tailor shop, Dean grabs his journal, chuckling as he rips out a sheet of paper. “Back to the Future III.”

“What’s that?” Peggy questions, tugging on a cardigan.

“It’s a… it’s a movie from my time. I’m gonna send Sammy a letter, get him to do the spell at the right time. It’s foolproof!” he laughs triumphantly, winking once Peggy hands him an envelope.

While the others finish getting ready, Dean quickly scribbles a note.

Sammy,

Stark tracked down Chronos. Dude, he’s working with Hydra, and that asshole Anrim… he’s Red Skull’s right hand man. How could I have forgotten that?

If you’re half as smart as I give you shit for, you’ve found the spell by now. You’ll also have found out that YOU have to perform it at the exact same time he’s got his hands on me. The plan is for 11:30.

We’ve got the weapon and are going after him. Red Skull is using Chronos’ power to build a weapon to destroy entire cities. It’s bad, Sam. Gotta stop him before he can change history, man. See you in a bit.

* * *

Swearing he’ll only be gone a few minutes, Dean exits the car, and walks up to the front door of the very same house where he and Sam are squatting in 2012. He takes a peek inside, finding an older gentleman who is reading a newspaper while listening to the radio.

He opens the door shortly after Dean knocks on it. “Can I help you, son?”

“Yes, sir. I am, uh, Special Agent Costner with the, uh…” Dean holds out his phony FBI badge, “Department of Homeland Termite Invasion.”

The homeowner looks slightly terrified and disgusted “Termites?”

Dean smiles. Even for a shitty cover, he’s still got it. “Yes, sir. There’s been an outbreak all over this area, and I just want to do an inspection, make sure that the, uh, perimeter’s secure.”

“Yes. Yes, of course. Um, you’d better come in,” he agrees, closing the door quickly behind Dean.

Dean walks up the steps and quickly finds the bedroom that Sam had unfairly won in a game of rock, paper, scissors. Flicking on the light, he moves the large bed out of the way, tossing a pillow onto the floor once there’s enough space. With his hat off, he drops down to the floor just as the homeowner enters.

“Is everything okay up here?”

Leaning up on his elbow, Dean answers. “What?! Oh, yeah - no! No, no. Not to worry, because I’m going to install something that will protect this house forever.”

After he leaves, Dean rests his head on the pillow, wide eyes scanning for a place to hide the letter. It’s when he looks to his right that he notices the bottom of a door frame on the other side of the room. He gets up, walks over to the door frame, and takes out his switchblade. Once the letter is tucked away, Dean carves his brother’s name into the wood.

* * *

Peggy gives Dean a hug. “Get home in one piece, you hear?”

“I’ll do my best,” he confirms, tipping his head.

“Come on, Dean,” orders Steve. “It’s almost time.”

They walk quickly and quietly up to the house where Dean tries the front door, but it’s locked. He hands his gun to Steve so he can pick the lock. Dean makes quick work of it, taking lead once the door swings open. The two are too busy watching for someone in front of them, that they don’t check behind them. Dean reaches back to reclaim his gun from Steve just as Chronos tackles him, and they crash loudly to the floor.

Both men right themselves quickly, each one throwing punches once they’re standing. With a wild swing, Chronos sends Dean sprawling into a chair. Towering over him, the god rears his arm back, only to be stopped by the shrill shriek of Lila.

“Ethan!”

He whirls around and finds Steve holding the woman he loves from behind; his hand tight on her throat. “Let’s talk,” he snarls.

“Please don’t hurt her,” Chronos begs, chest heaving, anger roaring through him.

“Ethan, what’s happening?” Lila chokes, confusion heavy on her tongue.

“Yeah, Ethan,” Dean chuckles. “What the hell?”

“Lila, I’m sorry, but, you just - everything I said to you is true -”

“Oh, he might have left out a few details,” interrupts Dean. “He tell you he’s a monster who jumps through time? That he’s working with someone that wants nothing more than to watch the world burn?”

Chronos snarls. “I’m a god!” Clearing his throat, he turns back to Lila. “Look, I’m not a monster. Listen. I’m the opposite.”

“Well, don’t forget to tell her about all the people you murdered along the way, boy scout,” Steve growls, low and thick. “About the billions you are helping to kill.”

With emotion thick in her throat, Lila rasps, “What?”

“It’s not like that,” Chronos tries to spin the story to his advantage. “I do it for you, Lila.”

“I don’t understand,” Lila murmurs, her head shaking.

“See, he’s not as strong as he used to be. Isn’t that right, Ethan? Now you got to suck people dry. Wild guess - it takes three kills to juice you up,” Dean sasses, his eyes noticing the time on the grandfather clock in the corner.

“Sacrifices,” Chronos ‘clarifies.’ “Three sacrifices, and I can control when and where I land. But once I get there, it’s never for long before I’m tossed through time again. That’s my life, Lila. And all I want is to get back here.”

“Because you just love the clean Brooklyn air?” Steve scoffs.

“Because I love her! Because I lived the worst existence you can imagine, and then I found you.” He doesn’t look away from Lila, hoping she can see the truth in his eyes. “I don’t care about anyone but you.”

Rolling his eyes, Steve laughs sardonically. “You’re willing to help commit mass genocide all because of some dame?”

“Yes,” he agrees quickly. “Don’t tell me that even you, Captain America, wouldn’t do anything in your power to be with the woman you love.” Chronos risks a step towards Lila and Steve.

“Back down,” Steve barks. Standing behind Chronos, Dean pulls the stake from the inside of his jacket.

“Lila, please,” Chronos begs, his eyes full of tears.

“You are a monster,” she shouts, betrayal coursing through her like lava.

Just as Dean prepares to stab Chronos, Lila’s eyes dart over, alerting the god to Dean’s movements. Chronos spins and tackles Dean, easily breaking Dean’s hold on the stake. Steve grabs the gun Dean handed him earlier, and pulls the trigger twice, sending bullets into Chronos’ back. He stumbles at the impact, but his grip does not waver. That’s when a red light starts to glow in the god’s chest, and both Dean and Steve’s eyes fall to the stake.

Chronos lets loose a rumbling, “No!” He drops Dean and marches toward Steve, murderous rage etched into his face.

Two things happen at once. The grandfather clock strikes 11:34, and Steve launches the stake across the room. It lands in Chronos’ chest with a resoundingly wet  _THWACK_. Chronos stands there, looking down at the stake protruding from his chest, blood falling from his mouth.

“You want to know your future? I know your future,” Chronos groans, suddenly the most tired he’s ever been. “War, Steve. You can’t escape it. You can’t stop it. It’s everywhere.” He tries to chuckle, but it’s thick, wet, suffocating him.

There is an explosion of red and white light, momentarily blinding everyone in the room. After it fades, and Dean can open his eyes without them feeling as if they’re on fire, he looks up into the face of the man he least expected to see.

“I’m sorry it didn’t work, Dean,” Steve says sadly, his hand held out for Dean to grab.


	7. Prisoner of War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PREVIOUSLY ON TIME AFTER TIME:  
> Sammy,  
> Stark tracked down Chronos. Dude, he’s working with Hydra, and that asshole Anrim… he’s Red Skull’s right hand man. How could I have forgotten that?  
> If you’re half as smart as I give you shit for, you’ve found the spell by now. You’ll also have found out that YOU have to perform it at the exact same time he’s got his hands on me. The plan is for 11:30.  
> We’ve got the weapon and are going after him. Red Skull is using Chronos’ power to build a weapon to destroy entire cities. It’s bad, Sam. Gotta stop him before he can change history, man. See you in a bit.  
> *************************  
> “You want to know your future? I know your future,” Chronos groans, suddenly the most tired he’s ever been. “War, Steve. You can’t escape it. You can’t stop it. It’s everywhere.” He tries to chuckle, but it’s thick, wet, suffocating him.  
> There is an explosion of red and white light, momentarily blinding everyone in the room. After it fades, and Dean can open his eyes without them feeling as if they’re on fire, he looks up into the face of the man he least expected to see.  
> “I’m sorry it didn’t work, Dean,” Steve says sadly, his hand held out for Dean to grab.

##  **1944**

Dean, wearing a green suit with several medals and patches adorning the front, manages to get Steve’s attention with a low whistle. Steve quickly excuses himself from a thoroughly uninteresting conversation, and winds his way through the crowd.

“Hey, what’s up?” Steve asks, suddenly nervous, following Dean into a room.

Peggy closes the door behind them. “Hello, Steve.”

Steve’s features immediately soften. “Hi, Peg. What are you doing here?”

“Officially I’m not here at all,” she laments, her eyes dark with sadness.

He knows this isn’t a social call. “What’s happened?” Steve demands, eyes flicking between Dean and Peggy.

“Something came across the wire this morning,” Dean informs Steve. “It’s about Buck.”

It is as if the floor shifts under Steve’s feet, threatening to topple the super soldier. He shoots his hand out, steadying himself against the wall. “Just tell me he’s alive.”

“They wouldn’t tell me,” Peggy admits. She reaches for Steve’s other hand, the tightness in her chest loosening just the smallest at the familiar weight of his hand in hers.

Grinding his jaw, Dean rolls his eyes. And he thought the sexism in the 21st century was horrid. “He’s thirty miles behind the lines. Through the most heavily fortified territory in Europe. They would lose more men than they could save… or so they tell me.”

“Of course they tell you and not me,” Peggy gripes, rolling her eyes just as Dean had done.

“I’m going to get him,” Steve announces. “Don’t try and talk me out-”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Cap,” Dean interrupts. “But what do you plan to do, walk to Austria?”

Steve stands tall, back annoyingly straight, hands balled into fists. “If that’s what it takes.”

Peggy chuckles softly. “There will be need for that.”

* * *

“Howard,” Dean greets as he boards the plane. “Good to see you again.”

“Been a while,” he agrees, taking an extra long look at Peggy as she boards.

Chuckling, Dean claps Howard on the shoulder. “Ain’t gonna happen, man.”

“I can still enjoy the view,” Stark insists, winking as he chuckles. Once the three have boarded, Howard cups a hand around his mouth. “Please buckle your seat belts, put your trays in an upright and lock position; we are about to take off.”

Peggy laughs loudly. “I miss your humor, Stark.”

“Well, you wouldn’t have to miss it if you just agreed to go out with me,” Howard croons from the pilot seat.

“Wait,” Steve objects. “You’re flying this plane?”

“Stark is the best civilian pilot I’ve ever seen. He’s mad enough to brave this airspace, we’re lucky to have him,” answers Peggy plainly.

Dean tries to hide his chuckle by shaking his head. “Come on, Cap,” he says, grabbing Steve’s large duffel.

Once the plane is in the air and leveled off, Dean pulls out a sheet of paper. “The Hydra camp is in Krausberg, tucked between these two mountain ranges. It’s a factory of some kind.”

“We should be able to drop you right on the doorstep,” Howard confirms, yelling over his shoulder.

“Just get us as close as you can,” Dean orders.

Steve is shaking his head and holding his hand out. “No, Dean,” he argues. “This is my mission.”

“Like hell it is,” Dean growls. “Bucky is my friend, too.”

“Unless you have a serum pumping through your veins that gives you all kinds of perks, then you’re staying put,” Steve orders, his eyes flashing and nostrils flaring.

Peggy, knowing just how stubborn each of them is, makes quick work of changing the subject. “This is your transponder. Activate it when you’re ready and the signal will lead us straight to you.”

With his brow arched, Steve asks, “Are you sure this thing works?”

“It’s been tested more than you, pal,” Howard sasses mere seconds before enemy planes start shooting. Worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, Howard does every evasive maneuver he can think of. The second to last thing he wants is to go down in a ball of flames. The very last thing he wants to do is go down in a ball of flames in enemy territory.

Glowering at the multi-millionaire, Steve, who has somehow managed not to fall on his ass, strides over to the open door of the plane, grabs the sides, and leans out.

“The hell you thinkin’?” Dean shouts, his hand flying through the air to land on Steve’s arm.

Peggy starts shouting, “Get back here! We’re taking you all the way in.”

“As soon as I’m free, you turn this thing around and get the hell outta here,” Steve demands.

“You can’t give me orders.” Peggy’s chest is heaving as she tries - and fails miserably - to keep her emotions in check.

“The hell I can’t! I’m a Captain!” Steve looks at her, wishing he had the courage to tell her how he feels, and then he jumps out of the plane.

* * *

“He was in an isolation ward,” Steve explains to Dean. “The prisoners said they never saw anyone come back.”

“Just you and Buck,” Dean jokes, popping the top off his beer.

Steve chuckles, more of a scoff really. “You should’a seen him. He was… I don’t know what they did to him, but it was bad.”

“Hey, don’t do that,” Dean says, nudging Steve’s arm with his. “Don’t think about that. You saved him, and so many others. They would have died if you had stayed on the plane instead of jumping off like some kind fool.”

Shrugging one shoulder, Steve looks down the bar at his friend. “Don’t know what I would have done if he had died.”

“You don’t have to worry about that now, Steve,” Dean assures him.

“I don’t know,” he mumbles. “I still feel like something is going to happen.”

“Because of what Chronos said?”

Steve’s head dips, an embarrassed flush coloring his cheeks. “He’s right, I haven’t been able to stop this war.”

Dean turns to Steve. “Listen, war is going to happen no matter how hard anyone tries to stop it; even you. Yeah, you’re Captain America. You’ve got super serum running through your veins, and it’s made you damn near unstoppable. But this,” he waves his hand around the bar that is filled with men wearing every various kinds of army garb, “is always going to happen.”

“There has to be something we can do,” he insists.

Smirking, Dean claps Steve on the shoulder. “I think I got just the thing.”

* * *

Back at the London headquarters, Steve makes several marks on a map while he talks. “The fifth one was here in Poland, right near the Baltic. And the sixth one was…  about here, 30, 40 miles west of the Maginot Line. I just got a quick look.”

“Well, nobody’s perfect,” Peggy jokes as they walk over to where Dean is standing and staring at a map.

“These are the weapon factories we know about,” Dean announces. “Sergeant Barnes said that Hydra shipped all the parts to another facility that isn’t on this map.”

Colonel Chester Phillips nods in understanding. “Agent Carter, coordinate with MI6. I want every Allied eyeball looking for that main Hydra base.”

“What about us?” Peggy asks, slightly annoyed at even the thought of staying behind.

“We are gonna set a fire under Johann Schmidt’s ass,” is the colonel’s arrogant answer. “What do you say, Rogers? It’s your map, you think you can wipe Hydra off of it?”

“Yes, sir. I’ll need a team.”

“We’re already putting together the best men,” the colonel announces.

Both Steve and Dean scoff, not caring about any possible repercussions. “With all due respect, sir. So am I,” Steve clarifies, his body language implying there’s no room for argument.


	8. Time After Time: Take the A-Train

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PREVIOUSLY ON TIME AFTER TIME:  
> “What’s happened?” Steve demands, eyes flicking between Dean and Peggy.  
> “Something came across the wire this morning,” Dean informs Steve. “It’s about Buck.”  
> It is as if the floor shifts under Steve’s feet. He shoots his hand out, steadying himself against the wall. “Just tell me he’s alive.”  
> *********************  
> Steve chuckles, more of a scoff really. “You should’a seen him. He was… I don’t know what they did to him, but it was bad.”  
> “Hey, don’t do that. Don’t think about that. You saved him, and many others. They would have died if you had stayed on the plane instead of jumping off like some kind fool.”  
> “I still feel like something is going to happen.”  
> “Because of what Chronos said?”  
> Steve’s head dips, an embarrassed flush coloring his cheeks. “He’s right, I haven’t been able to stop this war.”  
> “Listen, war is going to happen no matter how hard anyone tries to stop it; even you. Yeah, you’re Captain America. You’ve got super serum running through your veins, and it’s made you damn near unstoppable. But this,” he waves his hand around the bar that is filled with men wearing every various kinds of army garb, “is always going to happen.”  
> ********************************  
> “What about us?” Peggy asks, slightly annoyed at even the thought of staying behind.  
> “We are gonna set a fire under Johann Schmidt’s ass,” is the colonel’s arrogant answer. “What do you say, Rogers? It’s your map, you think you can wipe Hydra off of it?”  
> “Yes, sir. I’ll need a team.”  
> “We’re already putting together the best men,” the colonel announces.  
> “With all due respect, sir. So am I.”

Bucky, Steve, and Dean are standing on a snow-covered mountain, overlooking a set of railroad tracks. They can hear the approaching train, the same one that Zola is supposed to be on.

Bucky leans in so Steve can hear him over the bitter wind. “Remember when I made you ride the Cyclone at Coney Island?”

Chuckling, Steve answers. “Yeah, and I threw up?”

“This isn’t payback, is it?” Bucky asks nervously. Rides at Coney Island are one thing, riding a rope down a mountain onto a moving train is something completely different.

Steve claps his friend on the shoulder. “Now why would I do that?”

Dean approaches the duo, shivering at the bite of wind across his neck. “We were right. Dr. Zola’s on the train. Hydra dispatcher gave him permission to open up the throttle. Wherever he’s going, they must need him bad.”

“Let’s get goin,” Bucky says, eager to get this over with.

“We only got about a 10-second window,” Dean announces. “We miss that window, we’re bugs on a windshield.”

Swallowing hard, Steve grabs the thick rope, and waits for the all clear from Dean.

“Now,” he commands, voice tight. Shit, if anything compares to flying on his scares-the-shit-out-of-him meter, it’s heights. Steve pushes himself away from the mountain, Bucky goes second, and Dean is last. The wind cuts through their clothes, grips their lungs tight, and doesn’t let go until they land.

It’s a fight from the second they step inside, there are Hydra soldiers crawling over every inch of the train. Some go down without too much of a fight, others, not so much. One has Dean against the wall, fighting dirty, taking cheap shots until Dean can hardly fight back.

Bucky comes from behind, and slams the butt of his pistol to the back of his head. Standing over the soldier, Bucky pulls the trigger, not once, not twice, but three times.

“I had him on the ropes,” Dean rasps, rubbing at his throat with one hand.

Bucky chuckles low in his throat. “I know you did.”

“Get down!” Steve shouts as soon as he enters from another car.

There, standing between the three men, is another one of Red Skull’s soldiers, and he’s holding a blaster gun that pulses with a blue energy. In the span of a split second, everything changes. With a wicked smirk, the soldier pulls the trigger, and blows a hole through the side of the speeding train.

Dean launches himself after the soldier, taking him down with a punch to the throat, followed with a knee to the nose as soon as the soldier’s knees hit the floor. After removing the weapon from the newly fallen soldier, Dean turns just in time to see Steve bolt out the hole, and Bucky… he’s nowhere to be seen.

“Bucky,” Steve screams, the wind adding an eerie shrill to his voice.

Dean drops the gun and leans out of the train. “Hang on!” He looks around for something, anything to help. But there’s only weapons, weapons that Red Skull is planning to use in order to gain complete world domination.

“Grab my hand,” Steve shouts, his hand diving through the air, feet from his friend.

Bucky does his best, reaches out to be saved, but his hand slips. “No,” Steve and Dean both shout, terror-stricken, unable to stop from watching their friend fall to his death.

* * *

_We lost him today, Sam. I thought maybe, just maybe Bucky wouldn’t fall if I were there. And Steve… he reminds me of dad after mom died. I don’t blame him. Not one bit. But I know how this ends for Steve, for Peggy… I don’t know if I have it in me to just stand back and watch it happen. He’s a fictional character to you, but he’s become my best friend, my family. Changing something as massive as this… fuck._

* * *

“What is this?” demands Zola, pointing to a tray of food that Dean had just set on the table.

“Serious? It’s steak, man,” Dean scoffs. “What’s it look like?”

Shaking his head, Zola rephrases his question. “What’s in it?”

“Cow,” is Dean’s simple answer. “Doctor, do you realize how difficult it is to get a hold of a prime cut like this out here?”

“I don’t eat meat,” Zola announces, looking down on Dean as if he were the scum of the earth.

“Why not?” he asks, dropping down to the chair and pulling the plate close.

“It disagrees with me.”

Dean starts to cut the steak. “How about cyanide? Does that give you the rumbly tummy too? Every Hydra agent that we’ve tried to take alive has crunched a little pill before we can stop him. But not you. So, here’s my brilliant theory.” Wearing a smirk, Dean takes a big bite. “You wanna live.”

“You’re trying to intimidate me.”

“Hey, I brought you dinner,” Dean snaps as he passes a piece of paper to Zola.

“Given the variable information he has provided, and in exchange for his full cooperation, Dr. Zola is being remanded to Switzerland,” reads the doctor.

With his mouth full, Dean admits, “I sent that message to Washington this morning. Of course it was encoded. You guys haven’t broken those codes, have you? That would be awkward.”

Zola pushes the paper away from him “Schmidt will know this is a lie.”

He’s had enough. Dean pushes the plate of steak away and rests his elbows on the table, glaring darkly at Anrim. “He’s gonna kill you anyway, Doc. You’re a liability. You know more about Schmidt than anyone. And the last guy you cost us was Captain Rogers’ closest friend. So, I wouldn’t count on the very best of protection. There’s you or Schmidt. It’s just the hand you’ve been dealt.”

“Schmidt believes he walks in the footsteps of the gods,” Zola boasts, obviously believing it as well.

Dean can’t help but roll his eyes as he hums a retort.

“Only the world itself will satisfy him,” Zola drones on.

“You do realize that’s nuts, don’t you?”

“But the sanity of the plan is of no consequence,” the doctor prattles on.

Narrowing his eyes, Dean can’t help but ask, “And why is that?”

“Because he can do it!”

“Listen, I’ve killed gods,” Dean snarks. “Hell, it was my job to cut ‘em down before they could do any real damage. And all of that was before I fought alongside Steve Rogers. So, if you think this little plan is going to go off without a hitch. You got no idea who you’re messin’ with.”

Wearing a smirk, Zola leaned back in his seat and crossed his legs. “You’ll fall, too, Winchester. It’s a perk of being one of Steve’s friends.”

* * *

It’s at a bar in London, destroyed by bombs, almost a pile of rubble, that Dean finds Steve. He’s pouring himself a drink while listening to the radio.

_Blackout is still in effect throughout the London area. Please wait for the all-clear. Your attention, please. All citizens shall remain indoors until further notice. Blackout is still in effect throughout the London area._

“Dr. Erskine said that… the serum wouldn’t just affect my muscles, it would effect my cells. Create a protective system of regeneration and healing. Which means um… I can’t get drunk. Did you know that?” Steve scoffs, tossing back the drink.

Dean drops next to his friend after grabbing a glass from the bar. “Makes sense,” he muses, pouring himself a healthy serving of whiskey.

Peggy comes around the corner, walking carefully through the rubble. “Your metabolism burns four times faster than the average person. He thought it could be one of the side effects.”

“You know… it wasn’t your fault,” Dean tries to assure his friend.

“Did you two read the reports?” The two can only nod in response. “Then you know that’s not true.”

“Steve,” Dean sighs. “You can’t do this to yourself. I’ve been there, more times than I care to remember. I’ve lost friends and family members, I’ve watched them die, watched the life drain from their eyes, that last spark of life get snuffed out. It’s…” his voice trails off and he pulls in a shuddering breath before quickly finishing his drink.

Peggy drops her hand to Dean’s shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. “You did everything you could, Steve. Did you believe in your friend? Did you respect him? Then stop blaming yourself. Allow Barnes the dignity of his choice. He damn well must have thought you were worth it.”

“I’m goin’ after Schmidt. I’m not gonna stop till all of Hydra is dead or captured,” Steve vows darkly, the drink shaking in his hand.

“You sure as hell won’t be alone,” Dean promises.


	9. I'll be Seeing You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PREVIOUSLY ON TIME AFTER TIME:  
> We lost him today, Sam. I thought maybe, just maybe Bucky wouldn’t fall if I were there. And Steve… he reminds me of dad after mom died. I don’t blame him. Not one bit. But I know how this ends for Steve, for Peggy… I don’t know if I have it in me to just stand back and watch it happen. He’s a fictional character to you, but he’s become my best friend, my family. Changing something as massive as this… fuck.  
> *************************************  
> “I’m goin’ after Schmidt. I’m not gonna stop till all of Hydra is dead or captured,” Steve vows darkly, the drink shaking in his hand.  
> “You sure as hell won’t be alone,” Dean promises.

It’s immediate; making battle plans to take down Red Skull at his headquarters.

Dean is pacing around the room. “Johann Schmidt belongs in a bug house. He thinks he’s a god, and he’s willing to blow up half the world to prove it, starting with the USA.”

“Schmidt’s working with powers beyond our capabilities,” Howard sighs unhappily. “He gets across the Atlantic, he will wipe out the entire eastern seaboard in an hour.”

Steve doesn’t like what he is hearing. “ How much time we got?”

“According to my new best friend, under twenty four hours,” Dean answers.

Peggy comes across the room and stands next to the table. “Where is he now?”

Pointing to a map, Dean answers. “Hydra’s last base is here, in the Alps. Five hundred feet below the surface.”

“So, what are we supposed to do?” Howard scoffs. “It’s not like we can just knock on the front door.”

“Why not?” Steve retorts, eyebrow arched, tone playful, yet serious. “That’s exactly what we’re going to do.”

* * *

“Why can’t things ever go according to plan?” Dean snarls as he fights off a handful of Schmidt’s soldiers, using his 30 years of hunting experience to his advantage. “The bigger they are,” he huffs as his fist slams into one of the soldier’s throats. “The harder they fall.” Dean can’t help but laugh at his own joke, but he’s quick to remember that Steve is on the other side of the door, taking on Red Skull by himself; he can hear the exchange, even from down the hall.

“Arrogance may not be a uniquely American trait, but I must say you do it better than anyone. But there are limits to what even you can do, Captain. Or did Erskine tell you otherwise?”

“He told me you were insane,” Steve grinds out.

“Ah,” Schmidt chuckles.”He resented my genius and tried to deny me what was rightfully mine. But he gave you everything. So, what made you so special?”

“Nothin’. I’m just a kid from Brooklyn. I can do this all day.”

Dean chuckles again. “Doesn’t say it, my ass.”

“Oh, of course you can. Of course. But unfortunately I am on a tight schedule.” Schmidt takes out his cube-energy pistol and points it at Steve.

“So am I,” Steve shouts just as Dean rams his way through the door.

“Rogers, you might need this,” Dean calls as he tosses Steve the shield that had been knocked away by Schmidt. That split second exchange is more than enough time for Schmidt to turn on his heel and run out a door at the other end of the room.

Steve shouts his appreciation as he takes off after Red Skull, maneuvering his way through the Hydra base. Dean is close behind, astonished at the chaos that he sees as more Allied soldiers arrive. Commands, receipt of those commands, and updates are being yelled into the comms, borderline deafening in Dean and Steve’s ears, but they continue to push through, leaving a trail of dead soldiers in their wake.

Just as the duo round a corner, a Hydra soldier with a set of flame throwers greets them, a wicked chuckle filling the space between them. There’s no time to come up with a plan, because his fingers are already on the triggers. With hearts pounding in their chests, they await the flames, but the flames never come.

With wide eyes, they watch as the soldier falls to the ground, revealing a proud looking Peggy.

“You’re late,” Steve teases, letting out a sigh of relief.

“Weren’t you about to…” she points in the direction they had just been running.

“Right,” Steve mumbles, tearing off after Schmidt.

“He’s not gonna make it,” Dean grumbles, eyes scanning the area for something… anything… “Fuckin’ Yahtzee,” he shouts. Grabbing Peggy’s hand, Dean tears off across the room, all but throwing her into a car, then jumping behind the steering wheel. Dean stomps on the gas pedal, sending a shriek of rubber on steel echoing through the base.

They quickly catch up to Steve, who jumps into the car, standing on the seat, poised and ready to jump at a second’s notice. “Keep it steady,” Steve orders Dean, his heart pounding in his ears.

Peggy stands suddenly, her hand on Steve. “Wait,” she cries out before kissing him. It’s brief, leaves the two of them wanting more, but this isn’t the time. “Go get him.”

Steve glances over at Dean, eyes wide with surprise. “I’m not kissin’ you,” Dean chuckles.

With one last look at Peggy, Steve launches himself off the car and inside the Valkyrie. Slamming on the brakes, Dean cranks the wheel, gritting his teeth as the car slides towards the edge of the mountain, rubber-scented smoke and snow swirling around them. It finally stops, right on the precipice, teetering to the point that Dean is sure that this is when he dies.

* * *

Dean is pacing back and forth, gnawing on the cuticle of his thumb. “Come on, Steve,” he mumbles repeatedly. His mind is racing a million miles a minute, trying to convince himself that Steve will make it this time. He has to.

There’s a burst of static on the radio. “Come in. This is Captain Rogers. Do you read me?”

Dean practically falls over himself to get to the microphone. “We read you, Steve.”

Peggy is next to Dean a heartbeat later. “Steve, are you alright?”

“Peggy,” Steve breathes in relief. “Schmidt’s dead.”

“What about the plane?” Dean rasps. He knows the answer already, but goddamnit it, what use is travelling back in time if everyone still dies?

There’s a moment of static, dead air, until Steve’s emotion-clogged voice says, “That’s a bit tougher to explain.” With a muffled curse, Dean shoves himself out of the chair, and drives his hands through his hair.

“Give me your coordinates, I’ll find you a safe landing site,” Peggy chokes out, refusing to accept the possibility that Steve won’t be making it back.

Drawing in a shuddering breath, Steve admits, “There’s not going to be a safe landing. But I can try and force it down.”

Dean is by Peggy’s side, leaning over to say, “I’ll get Howard on the line, he’ll know what to do.”

“There’s not enough time,” Steve chokes out. “This thing’s moving too fast and it’s heading for New York. I gotta put her in the water.”

“Please, don’t do this,” Peggy begs, her hands holding Deans so tight they hurt. “We have time. We can work it out.”

“Right now I’m in the middle of nowhere. If I wait any longer a lot of people are gonna die. Peggy, this is my choice. Peggy?” There’s a hint of fear to Steve’s voice. He doesn’t want to die alone.

“I’m here,” she sobs, leaning into Dean as he drops down and wraps his arm around her shoulders.

“I’m gonna need a rain check on that dance,” he tries to joke, to lighten the mood as much as he can.

Peggy sniffles loudly before agreeing. “Alright. A week, next Saturday, at the Stork Club. Eight o'clock on the dot. Don’t you dare be late. Understood?”

“You know,” Steve chuckles low. “I still don’t know how to dance.”

“I’ll show you how. Just be there,” she demands.

“We’ll have the band play somethin’ slow. I’d hate to step on your…” Static bursts through the speakers, pulling a sob from both Peggy and Dean. The dead air doesn’t stop Peggy from calling out, trying to reach Steve just one last time.

* * *

_I couldn’t stop it, Sammy. Steve still died. I did everything I could think of, and he still died. And Peggy, Jesus, she’s utterly heartbroken. She tries to brush it off, act like nothing happened. She doesn’t know that I can hear her cry at night._

_I found something last night, a note from Steve. He begged me to stay, to stop searching for a way home. He wants me to keep an eye on Peg, make sure she survives this. She may be one of the strongest women I know, but… I don’t know… she really loved him._

_So… as much as I want to… Sam, I can’t… I’m not coming home. I’ve decided to work with Stark. We’re going to look for the Tesseract, see if we can possibly find the crash site. Maybe Steve… It’s stupid, I know. I know how the comics go, and I know Steve doesn’t get discovered for decades, but I can’t just sit back and not look, you know?_

_I’m sorry._

_Take care of yourself, Sammy._


End file.
